


The Monster That You See

by stumpclub



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, Violence, Werewolves, i promise patrick doesnt die, neither does pete, there will probably be more characters later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stumpclub/pseuds/stumpclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t know how it happens. He doesn’t know how he got there. But, what he does know is that there’s a wolf and he’s alone in the forest with a headache and a black eye.<br/>He can’t tell if it’s the headache or if he’s just straight out hallucinating, but he could have sworn the wolf spoke.<br/>Failing in staying conscious he wakes in a house with a man who speaks just like the wolf. He can’t place why he seems familiar, but he feels like he is suppose to trust him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

(Pete's POV)

When Pete wakes up, he doesn't know where he is.

The ground is cold and gritty underneath him. The air is still and quiet. His entire body aches. He's dressed in his clothes from earlier that day and he can taste the metallic pang of blood in his mouth. His arm hurts like hell, a sharp, biting pain, unlike the rest of his body. He feels faint and dizzy.

He sits up and the world spins. The trees around him are towering black monsters that threaten to close up around him and block out the sky. The almost-full moon shines down through the treetops, casting light on the clearing. The ground is littered with twigs, rocks, and leaves. He can feel mosquitoes biting at his arms and neck, anywhere where flesh is exposed. He bats at the air around his ear when he hears a buzz. Everything looks vaguely blurry. He's in a forest, one he's never seen before. The thick air smells of dirt, mold, and pine.

That's when it comes.

The wolf.

Pete sees its eyes first. They're brilliant, blue-green and human. The creature slinks out of the underbrush, silent. The leaves do not crunch under its paws. It seems to glide towards him, its pelt black in the darkness. He can't see much of it, but he knows he should be scared. He isn't. He locks eyes with the beast, and they both freeze for a moment. He gets a good look at it when it enters the moonlight.

It isn't as big as he thought it was. It's not very tall and has a stockier frame, and its fur is a light shade of orange-brown. It looks smart, like it knows things that Pete couldn't fathom. He's getting lightheaded again as it comes even closer. His heart flutters to tell him to run. He can't.

He's closing his eyes to let the animal end his life, and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and the night is suddenly frighteningly silent. He braces himself for his neck to be bitten and for it to be over.

The wolf presses its nose to his neck and he shivers. It's not cold, but it's surprising. Pete feels it inhale, ruffling the fine hair on the back of his neck. He's counting down in his head. 3, 2, 1...

It gently eases its head under the small of his back, nudging him. Then, it speaks.

_Who are you?_

It doesn't even properly speak, but a voice that is not Pete’s own echoes through his mind. It's the voice of another young man. He likes it. It sounds soft and not aggressive. He just stares, bewildered.

 _Who are you?_ It asks again.

"I'm... I'm Pete." He stammers. His throat is raw and he isn't sure why.

 _You are weak._ It isn't insulting, just observing.

This voice is making him even more dizzy. He feels sick. He just nods. The wolf kneels down. He stares for a moment.

_Get on._

He blinks before understanding. He clambers to his knees and messily drapes himself over the wolf's back, unable to sit properly. The wolf stands up again, and the force of the situation and having its voice in his head finally forces Pete to pass out.

Pete wakes up again with a jolt. His head is throbbing and he doesn't want to open his eyes.

He notices that he's under a blanket. His throat burns and he can hardly swallow. The air smells like fire and cooking food. He sits up, his body screaming at him to stay still, and peels open his eyes.

He's in a room with wooden walls and warm, yellow light. It burns his eyes and he flinches, bringing his wrist up to cover his eyes. He's wrapped in a comforter, and the window casts watery sunlight onto his legs. His arm is bandaged and bound tight, and there's a tiny spot where some blood filtered through the gauze. He puts his hand to his forehead, rubbing it to ease his headache. How did he get here? He tries to remember the night before, but he can only recall the wolf and the woods. But... How did he get _there_? He is frightened by his lack of knowledge.

He decides it's a good idea to explore the house. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he staggers a little as he stands up. His stomach lurches, but he steadies himself by leaning on the wall. Still using the polished wood for support, he makes his way to the door and pushes it open into a small hallway. There's a bathroom through one of the doors, so he goes in and makes use of it. He looks at himself in the mirror as he's washing his hands.

The skin around his eye is a blackened mess and there's a cut on his cheek. There are bags under his eyes and he looks incredibly pale. He sighs and runs a hand through his dark, tangled hair. It's not styled up anymore, and it hangs loosely above his eyebrows.

 _I must smell like shit_ , he thinks. He turns off the water to continue his exploration. Is he alone? He continues to ponder how he got to this place until he walks into the room at the end of the hallway. It's a living room, of sorts, with a couch, a coffee table and a television. There's a wifi router on the cable box. An empty doorway connects this room with another one. He surveys the room some more, still not completely awake.

There are footsteps in the other room and Pete jumps back. A man steps into the room with a cup of coffee. He looks a little surprised before he smiles.

The man has light, orange brown hair that's messy, presumably from sleep, and thick framed glasses. He's pretty short, and has a little bit of stubble strewn across his face. He wears flannel pants and a t-shirt. He raises an eyebrow at Pete.

"You're awake." He says, and P _ete knows that voice_. He can't quite place from where. The man offers his hand to him. "My name's Patrick." He says.

"H-hey." Pete stammers, shaking his hand. He fumbles with his words in confusion. "My name's Pete. I think your, uh, dog or something found me in the woods." The man has eyes that look shockingly familiar.

"Dog?" Patrick asks. He looks confused, but begins nodding slowly. "Yeah. Didn't think you'd remember that. You had a really high fever, dude."

"I did?" Pete asks. That would explain why he felt so awful.

"Yeah." Patrick says. He sounds worried. "You were pretty beat up. There's a huge gash in your arm. Do you remember what happened to you?" Pete shakes his head.

"No." He says softly. "Where am I?"

"You're in my house. We're about a mile away from where you were found." He says. "And about ten miles away from the nearest residential area. You're pretty far out here." He looks over his shoulder. "Come in here." He leads Pete into the other room, a kitchen. Pete notices that there's no sign of a dog.

 _Maybe it lives outside_ , he thinks.

"Coffee?" Patrick offers.

"Yeah, sure." Pete mumbles. Patrick pours him a mug full and hands it to him. The milk is out on the table, so his pours in a fair amount and dumps some sugar in for good measure. "Thanks." Patrick sits across from him at the island and Pete eases himself onto a stool.

"So, what do you remember?" Patrick raises his eyebrows. _He's pretty cute_ , Pete notes. Pete scrunches up his face as he thinks.

"I remember the dog. Or, it looked less like a dog and more like a wolf, if that makes any sense. It was pretty big. I was in this clearing, and everything hurt. The wolf..." He racks his brain. Something had been different about it. It had made him scared, yet made him feel safe. It had caused him to lose consciousness. He remembers with a jolt. "It spoke to me." Pete realizes how crazy he must sound right about then. He waits for Patrick to laugh at him, but he just nods.

"Yeah."

"Wh... What?" Pete's shocked that he hasn't been kicked out. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I don't." Patrick says softly. "Anything else?"

"The eyes. They were human... They looked kinda like yours." Pete's starting to get confused. Patrick's eyes frighteningly similar to the wolf's. They have the same yellow-green circle around the pupil and deep blue on the outside. Patrick nods and looks down. He's not saying anything and Pete's getting worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He whispers finally. "It's nothing. A lot of people have eyes like me."

"They're pretty unusual looking." Pete retorts, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really. They're probably not as similar as you think. You probably hallucinated the voice and are associating my eyes to grip onto reality." Patrick says, his face expressionless. His voice is a little more harsh than it had sounded previously. Pete's skeptical, but decides not to continue a possible argument.

"Sorry to intrude on your life like this. I should probably get going..." He says. He doesn't really want to spend any more time with this guy, no matter how cute he is.

"No. You're hurt, and you've got some temporary amnesia, it seems." Patrick says. "It'll wear off soon, probably. You remember anything else?"

"No." Pete says, turning toward the door.

"Do you know where you're going?" Patrick asks. He looks amused, and Pete hates it.

"I can figure it out." He growls.

"Fine. Do me a favor and count your steps, though. If you get lost, just go back the way you came." Patrick says. Pete's a little surprised that Patrick is letting him leave, but he doesn't have any second thoughts as he closes the door behind him.

The air is soggy and warm from the May morning air. Pete's not sure how he can remember that it's May. The leaves crunch beneath his sneakers, and as much as he hates it, he counts his steps, as Patrick asked. 1, 2, 3...


	2. Chapter 2

(Patrick's POV)

Patrick knows he can't win. Pete seems like a stubborn guy. But, he will be back, if he doesn't get lost, which he will. Patrick's the only one who really knows the forest. He's never encountered other wolves. This is his territory.

He runs a hand through his hair. Is there a way to let Pete stay with him without finding out that he spends half of his nights wearing a different skin? Is there even a way to convince Pete to stay at all? He tosses his and Pete's coffee mugs into the sink and goes to get dressed. He's not sure why he wants to look nice if all he's doing is going on a Pete Retrieval Mission, but he does. He decides that he just wants to make a good impression on the guest and takes a quick shower. He styles his hair into a fringe and puts on a cardigan, then surveys himself in the mirror. The clock lets him know that it's been about a half an hour since Pete left. Is that enough time for a person to get miserably lost?

He decides to go for a walk anyway. The outdoors help him clear his mind. He locks the door behind him, even though he knows that no one ever walks through this part of the forest.

The air is warm and a green-yellow light glows through the trees. It smells of Spring. There are lush, new leaves on the trees and flowers are poking up through the ground. Patrick smiles at the warm breeze that blows through his hair. Spring is his favorite season, he decides, as he hears birds calling out to each other through the canopy. He figures that Pete’s lost count of his steps, so he thinks it best to walk in the general direction of his scent.

Patrick’s incredibly unsettled by the ability to smell so well that comes with being a Lycanthrope. The fact that he can know where someone or something is from half a mile away scares him a little. Yet, he sets his insecurities aside and breathes deeply. Pete’s path is painfully obvious to him, and he follows in his footsteps. He can see where the other man crushed plants and shifted soil as he walked, and he follows the path silently.

He’s gotten pretty far into the woods when the trail turns around. Pete had been going in the wrong direction the whole time, leading not out of the woods but deeper in. Patrick laughs to himself. He decides he’ll have to teach Pete how to recognize landmarks once he finds him. He closes his eyes as another soft breeze whisks through the forest. Picking up his pace, he jogs in the direction of the scent trail. He knows that the lake is coming up, and he'll probably find him there.

Sure enough, he finds the other man, panting and sweating on a rock near the shore. He's looking out at the shimmering water, staring blankly.

"Hey. Need to be rescued?" Patrick asks, coming up to him. Pete jumps and looks around, and Patrick laughs a little.

"I'm lost." Pete admits, looking down at his hands resting in his lap.

"I know. You went a lot deeper into the forest." Patrick tells him with an amused smile. "Let's go back to my house."

"I'm fine." Pete defends, crossing his arms. He winces as he stretches his bicep and shifts the bandage.

"You're not fine." Patrick tells him firmly. "You are weak." He doesn't even realize that he's quoting himself. Pete's head snaps up and their eyes lock together. His brow furrows in concentration.

"I've heard that before." He murmurs. Patrick bites his lip and looks away.

"Let's go back." He changes the subject and Pete follows him away from the lake without a word. Patrick knows that Pete will figure him out eventually. He's going to keep himself a secret as long as he can, though, because Pete seems like a really good guy and Patrick's honestly lonely as hell.

Patrick's parents had kicked him out as soon as they'd seen signs of him changing. When a Lycanthrope is first turned, if they're not born one, they change involuntarily for the first few month after being bitten. He hadn't been able to control it. Of course, running around the house half changed was a sight for his parents. His mother had called the doctor, screaming and crying, and Patrick remembers it so clearly. A little, half changed boy toddling around on tiny paws, peeking around the corner, ears twitching, tears streaming down his face. When the doctor wouldn't listen, they went after him with brooms and knives, screaming to bring their son back. Patrick had cried and wailed and howled, but his body refused to obey him. He had twisted again and been chased out the door on all fours. He'd lived in the woods, changing in the leaves and shivering in the frost of late fall.

Hope came in the form of another Lycanthrope.

She was powerful and strong and deserved to live a lot longer than she did. She had found him, naked and quaking in the bushes, form refusing to stay in one shape. He had run to her and she'd sat back on her wolf legs, staring at him with gray fur whistling in the wind. She had lifted him onto her back and run through the forest, paws pounding the ground.

Patrick had grown up with her; she was like a sister and a mother to him. She taught him how to hunt, how to cope with changing for the first time. He learned to control himself and how to speak through thought. She'd shown him around the forest until he knew every landmark and pathway, every cave and cliff.

She'd been taken away in a thunderstorm, and it was his fault. She'd told a sixteen year-old Patrick to stay inside, that she wanted to go hunting for the rabbits that would surely be running back to their burrows because of the storm. Patrick had foolishly obliged after they'd bickered for a while. He sat there, alone, as the power went out and the wind whipped outside, as branches cracked. It had already been an hour when he decided to look for her.

He'd shifted forms and run through the rain, howling for her to come back, that it wasn't safe. He had heard her howl back from deeper in the woods, and he'd heard that howl cut short by a sharp _crack_ , _rustle_ , and _thud_.

She was gone by the time he found her body.

Patrick had lived alone for the next several years, caring for himself, only leaving once or twice a month to pick up supplies that couldn't be hunted. He locked himself away.

And then he'd found Pete in the woods.

Patrick's broken out of his thoughts when Pete taps his shoulder.

"Dude, are you even listening?" He asks, sounding mildly annoyed.

"Sorry. Just thinking." Patrick says, embarrassed. Pete sighs and speaks again.

"I asked you why you're so willing to help me."

Patrick pauses for a moment before answering. "It gets kinda lonely out here. I could do with some company."

"You have your dog though, right?" Pete asks, tilting his head to the side. Patrick swallows and fumbles to think of an answer.

"Uh, yeah, um, he's not really my dog. He's a stray, I just kind of feed him. He comes and goes." He cringes at how fake the lie sounds, but Pete seems to buy it with a shrug.

"I'll stay for a little bit, I guess." He says, looking forward. "How close are we to your place?"

"Almost there." Patrick informs him, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet.

"You got any lunch materials?" Pete just won't shut up, will he?

"Yeah. I've got bread and stuff." Patrick mumbles.

"Bread and stuff it is." The other man declares with a laugh.

"It's, like, four in the afternoon. I have to change your bandages when we get back." Patrick adds, checking his watch. He leads them back in another uncomfortable silence.

When they arrive, he unlocks the front door and kicks off his shoes. Pete does the same.

"Can I maybe take a shower?" He asks, sounding embarrassed. “I feel like I smell bad.”

“Sure.” Patrick says, smiling. He tries to seem kind and nice. “Let me undo your bandages.” Pete holds out his arm and Patrick carefully unwraps the layers of fabric. The skin is pink, irritated, and stained with blood, but it doesn’t look infected. Pete is wincing and grimacing as the bandages are peeled back.

“That’s gonna sting like hell, isn’t it?” He groans. Patrick nods.

“Uh-huh. You know where the bathroom is?” He asks. Pete nods his head and points down the hallway.

“I used it earlier.”

“I’ll make some dinner or something while you’re in there.” Patrick says. He’s got some beef in the fridge that he has to use up. Pete nods at him and disappears into the hallway, and Patrick turns around to walk into the kitchen. He’s going to have to tell Pete his story. Or, not his story, but one that roughly explains why he’s living alone in the woods. He starts making sandwiches as he thinks up a retelling of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Here we see some of Patrick's past. The plot will start developing over the next few chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

(Pete's POV)

Pete has always found showers strangely relaxing. He feels closed off from the world, safe. He loses track of time in there. He washes everything, since he's certain that he smells terrible. He uses Patrick's shampoo, of course, since he doesn't have his own. The water's starting to cool off, but he doesn't care. He's too lost in thought. He digs through his mind, trying to find a memory or two.

Suddenly, something surfaces from the back of his head. He remembers that he writes poems, maybe even songs, and plays bass. He's not sure how, but it makes him happy. He starts to think harder. If he's out here, then what must his family and friends think? He starts to feel fear rise in his chest. They're probably terrified. What if they're looking for him?

The water is cold now, shaking him out of thought, so he turns it off. He realizes that he doesn't have a change of clothes.

"Hey, uh, Patrick?" He calls from the bathroom.

"Yeah?" Patrick's muffled voice comes from the kitchen.

"I don't have, um, any clothes?" It comes out as more of a question. He hears Patrick laugh.

"You can borrow some of mine." Patrick moves off somewhere and then walks down the hallway. He knocks on the door and Pete quickly wraps himself in a towel.

"Come in." He calls. Patrick cautiously opens the door, peeking his head in before entering. He hands Pete a pile of clothing and curtly nods to him. His face is a little flushed. "You're blushing." Pete teases. Patrick turns even redder.

"No, I'm not." He says quickly. Pete smirks.

"Thanks for the clothes." He says and Patrick leaves, still bright red. Pete laughs to himself. Patrick's really cute, and Pete should definitely not be thinking that. He quickly gets dressed into the clothes that Patrick's given him. Black socks and jeans, some underwear and a gray T-shirt. It’s a neutral style. He likes them.

He hangs up his towel after drying his hair, leaving it messy and unstyled. Cautiously, he steps out of the bathroom and joins Patrick in the kitchen. He seems to have recovered from being embarrassed, and greets Pete by handing him a sandwich.

"Thanks." Pete says with the most charming smile he can muster. Patrick just nods and smiles back, and _God dammit_ , he's really, really cute. _This better not turn into anything_ , Pete thinks. He can’t handle a crush right now. "So... Tell me about yourself." He prompts Patrick. The other man looks slightly nervous.

"I've lived out here for a pretty long time. Since I was like, ten. I used to live here with my, uh, sister, but she... She died, like, fifteen years ago. I've lived out here ever since."

"So, how old are you?" Pete asks, his eyes wide.

"Twenty nine." Patrick says. His face is expressionless.

"You've lived here for almost twenty years. How long has it been since you spoke to someone?" He questions. Patrick shrugs.

"Her death really hurt me. It was my fault, anyway. I locked myself away for about ten of those fifteen years. I've got a few friends in town, but I don't really talk to them a lot." Patrick seems pretty casual. Pete scrunches up his face. How is Patrick supporting himself? "I love people, honestly. I just don't have that many to talk to."

"How did she..." Pete trails off. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't wanna talk about it." Patrick says quickly. There is a pause as they both look at the ground.

"I'll stay here for a while." Pete tells him, looking up. Patrick's face changes suddenly. His entire expression softens as he raises his eyebrows.

"You barely know me. Are you sure?"

Pete nods. "I'm sure. I don't want you to be lonely anymore. It's not healthy." Pete is startled as Patrick's arms are around him, pulling him in for a hug.

"Thank you." The other man says into his shoulder. Pete isn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he just rubs Patrick's back. Patrick is warm and he feels safe. But, Patrick pulls away pretty soon after, embarrassed. "Sorry." He says.

"Don't apologize, man, it's okay." Pete tells him, fumbling for words. Patrick just goes back to eating in silence, every now and then looking up at Pete.

"I should re-bandage your arm. Let me get the things." Patrick says quickly. He dashes off to the bathroom before Pete can say anything and returns with a roll of bandages, disinfectant cream, some gauze, and medical tape. Pete doesn't even question why he has all of this. Patrick gently starts bandaging the wound, and Pete winces at almost every touch. Patrick apologizes every time.

A cool breeze blows through the open window, and suddenly something changes in Patrick. His entire body tenses, his eyes widen. He seems to become alert and rigid.

“What’s wrong?” Pete asks, raising an eyebrow. Patrick’s eyes glaze over and he furrows his brow in concentration. What is he doing? “Patrick?” Pete says his name to try and get his attention.

“S-sorry. I’m fine.” Patrick shakes himself off and looks down at his hands. He's fidgeting and looking fleetingly at the walls and out the window. Pete can tell that something is really freaking him out.

"You're not fine." Pete insists. "Look at yourself."

"I am. It was nothing." He mumbles, and finishes bandaging Pete's arm. He turns to close the window.

He narrows his eyes, clearing his plate. Pete glances at the clock on the microwave. 5:00. Patrick takes Pete's empty plate from him, too, and puts it in the sink.

"So..." Pete says, fighting for something interesting to say. "What's your favorite movie?" He asks. Patrick raises an eyebrow.

"Ghostbusters." He says. "Yours?"

"I dunno. I like Terminator, I guess." Pete shrugs.

"I've got both. We could watch them tonight, if you want." Patrick offers. Pete nods. Watching a movie with someone is a good way to get to know them. Even if you're actually paying attention to the movie, you can tell what kind of person they are if they let you talk or not.

Patrick walks to the living room and puts Ghostbusters into the DVD player before sitting down on the couch. Pete joins him after a moment. Every now and then one of them will make a comment on the cinematic elements or how brilliant Bill Murray is. It's getting dark by the time the first move is done, and Patrick puts Terminator in right after. Pete likes the way the the tv light reflects on Patrick's face, giving it an unearthly glow.

"You're not bad looking, you know." He says, before he can stop himself. Patrick looks over and raises an eyebrow.

"Are you flirting with me?" He scoffs. Pete puts his face in his hands and shakes his head.

"Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." God dammit, now he's gone and made a fool of himself. He hears Patrick laugh.

"Well, same goes for you then," says Patrick. Pete looks up from his hands, startled. Patrick's smiling as he turns to look at the screen again.

Pete starts to get really tired midway through Terminator. He ends up lying down on the couch. He's not sure how, but his head has found its way into Patrick's lap. He has no intention of moving.

He dozes off not long after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that it took so long to update! I had some major writer's block with this. This is just a filler chapter, but the next one has some action.


	4. Chapter 4

(Patrick's POV)

As soon as he's sure Pete's asleep, Patrick slides out from under him. He leaves the TV on so that there's no dramatic change in Pete's surroundings, so he doesn't wake up. He goes and gets a blanket from the room Pete's staying in and tosses it over his sleeping body.

 _He looks peaceful_ , Patrick thinks to himself. He shakes himself so that he'll stop watching the other man sleep, because that's really fucking creepy and he's probably weirded Pete out enough already.

Patrick sighs. Tonight isn't going to be fun. He had smelled other wolves on his territory, and that's something he's never seen happen before. He's known that there's another pack that lives across the valley and the lake, but that's a few miles away. They've got a lot of land, and they don't need more. But, the wolves that Patrick caught scent of were definitely from a pack, so he has to investigate.

He steps onto the porch and locks the door behind him, setting the keys under the doormat. He starts to take off clothes that'll be hard to get off without thumbs or other human appendages. Tossing his pants, shirt and cardigan aside, he lets the cool breeze lap at his bare skin. He hopes Pete doesn't wake up and see him standing outside in his underwear... That'd be a weird one to explain. He finally sets his glasses down on top of his clothes and lets himself start to shift.

The shift feels different for everyone, but for most, it starts out painful. Once you're used to your bones shifting places and your skin pricking with fur, the sensation changes. For Patrick, it feels like stretching after being asleep. It feels like shedding a winter coat in springtime, scratching an itch, letting the wind whip through his hair. In short, he loves it, and as his face elongates and he drops to all fours, he sighs softly. He shimmies out of his boxers that he keeps on while shifting only for the fact of being self-conscious and yawns, stretching out his new body.

His senses are heightened even further as a wolf, and he can smell the intruders more clearly now. There are only two wolves, but he smells water and lavender on them and determines that they're from the pack. What do they want?

He steps off the porch with his teeth bared in a warning growl. He can tell they're not far. The air is filled with the sounds of crickets and frogs peeping, but Patrick can hear past that. He hears something rustle in the bushes about thirty feet from the back of the house and he breaks into a light trot, paws almost silent on the ground. The rustling stops and soon as he moves, which means he's been noticed. Great.

He growls, low in his throat and he feels the fur on the back of his neck spike up. He can hear two very quiet voices in the back of his mind. They're thought-speaking, and doing a pretty bad job of hiding it. He tries to make out what they're saying.

_We should fight him. He doesn't look strong._

_Shut up! He's gonna hear us._

_I'm just saying._

_Joe, shut the fuck up._

Patrick has to stop himself from laughing. These wolves don't know how good he is at fighting. But, he shouldn't get too cocky, he reminds himself, because these wolves could be incredibly skilled, _and_ there's two of them.

He growls again and steps toward the bushes. He can smell them stronger than ever now, and he can also smell their fear. They're confident, but afraid. This is good.

 _Don't hide from me._ Patrick sends out a warning through thought. The wolves go silent and still in the bushes. He bares his teeth and prepares to throw himself at them. But, one of them leaps first.

An orange-brown wolf barrels into him, snarling. He bowls Patrick over and he yelps, more because of being startled than the pain. He kicks out at the wolf's white underbelly, knocking the wind out of him. He rolls them over and presses the wolf to the ground. He's about to bite his shoulder when he feels strong paws and a set of teeth in his neck tear him off of the wolf, throwing him to the ground. He lets out a whimper before he can stop himself. Anger swells up in his chest as he struggles to his paws. The three of them all stare at each other, growling and snarling. The wolf that threw him is lanky and tall, with matted, longer fur around his chest and head. He's dark brown and looks almost more scared than angry.

The wolf that he attacked is a different story. He looks muscular and strong, and his face is contorted into an angry growl. He isn't afraid of Patrick. He's standing up and preparing to charge, and then he's leaping, but Patrick ducks and he manages to land messily on the ground.

The other wolf looks ready to run, so Patrick lets out a snarl and leaps at him. The only problem is, he's a lot bigger than Patrick. He only manages to ram his head into this wolf's side before the light brown wolf is pulling him off and sinking his claws into Patrick's shoulders.

He lets out a wail of pain before whipping around to claw at the wolf's face. He catches the wolf's ear with his claws and grimaces as it tears in his grip. The wolf screeches and throws Patrick to the ground, pressing his claws down on his face. He feels blood welling up on his cheek where the claws sink in; he squirms violently and loosens the wolf's grip on him. He rakes his claws down his sides and manages to get out from under him. Immediately, he lunges for the other wolf, this time jumping so that he pulls him down to the ground.

The dark brown wolf lets out a cry and struggles in Patrick's grip, but he sinks his teeth into his ruff and growls. He struggles and squirms more, whimpering, and soon Patrick's pulled off of him again. He's starting to detect a pattern. But before the other wolf can pin him, Patrick lets out what could almost be compared to a roar and rears up on his hind legs. Their paws collide in the air and he hooks one under the wolf's chin, sending him stumbling backward.

 _Go._ Patrick speaks to them both thought thought. _Leave! You can't be here._

 _This territory is too much for one wolf. Our pack needs it more._ The orange-brown wolf seems to be speaking, as he shakily gets back to his paws.

 _Andy, let's go. It's not worth it._ The other wolf is starting to shrink away, bleeding. Patrick growls in triumph. The orange wolf is slowly backing away, too. Patrick makes the decision to chase them out, just to make sure. He lunges forward and the wolves start running. He's honestly surprised that he's won this fight, but he intends to keep his home.

Trees fly by in his peripheral vision. The ground is a blur beneath this paws, and the air whips at his ears, which are shoved forward in an expression of dominance. His body is starting to ache, both from his injuries and from running.

Soon, they're making their way towards the valley and the lake, the edge of Patrick's land. He sees the cliff that stands above the valley and veers away from chasing the two wolves.

_You goddamn idiot, we could have taken him._

_But, we'd be too injured to come back and tell Gabe._

Patrick catches wisps of their thought-speaking before they fade away. He huffs a wolf laugh to himself and bounds back through the forest, up the mossy cliff that overlooks the valley. The lake shimmers in the moonlight and he can see the two wolves, still running back to their territory. He raises his head and howls, his deep-throated sounds reverberating through the valley. He lets the note he's holding dip and waver in pitch until he starts to run out of breath. He snaps his jaws shut, cutting off the wail.

He has the rest of the night to himself now. He limps down the cliff side toward the lake, wincing at every other step. Running with bruises and cuts isn't fun. When he reaches the bottom, he pads toward the lake, making a little too much noise. His paws sink into the cool mud when he reaches the shore, but he just continues walking. Soon, the water laps at his legs and belly. He sighs and kicks off the bottom of the lake, swimming farther out.

The cool water seeps into his fur as he swims with powerful strokes. He takes himself farther away from shore until his paws can no longer reach the bottom. He could die out here and no one would know. He ignores this thought, takes a deep breath and ducks under the water.

It's pitch black down there. He doesn't want to think about what lurks at the bottom, but he swims deeper until he can hardly see the moon through the water. The coolness spreads throughout his body, stopping the aching of his cuts and bruises from the fight. Fight isn't even a proper word for it. It was more of a scuffle, Patrick decides. He keeps swimming underwater, even though he can't see his paws in front of him. He's only broken out of this trance when his chest starts to ache from lack of air.

His head breaks the surface as he pants, treading water. He takes in great gasps of air and starts splashing back to the shore. He's starting to get tired and he doesn't want to risk drowning. The moon is bright and clear above the water, so the night is not dark nor silent. A few birds fly above him and the leaves rustle in the wind. He changes directions, still in the water, heading for a rock sticking into the lake. He wants to avoid the mud as much as he can.

Patrick splashes out of the water and crawls onto the rock. He shakes the water out of his fur and curls up on the rock. He thinks he'd better dry off before going back.

And although his mind wanders, it ends up focusing on Pete.

**  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> go andy and joe  
> wait till you guys see who's in the pack


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat's out of the bag.

(Pete's POV)

Pete wakes up with a jolt.

He kicks out at the blanket covering him, disoriented, and sits up. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and it takes him a few seconds to figure out where he is.

The noise of the television, which is repeating the Terminator menu screen, is kind of freaking him out, so he goes to turn it off. He fumbles for the remote for a few moments and eventually finds it on the coffee table. He turns off the television and sits back against the couch. Something is different, but he can't pick it out. He wracks his brain, and then _he remembers_. Pete remembers everything. He knows who he is, what happened, and how he got to the woods.

Pete remembers the men, dragging his half-conscious self into the woods. Cutting the gash in his arm with a pocket knife. They wore ski masks of different colors, and he never saw their faces. They had communicated with each other wordlessly, and almost regretfully as they turned to walk away. Pete doesn't know who they were, but doesn't want to see them again. He still doesn't know their motives. He'd been walking home—he lived alone, he remembers that- and they'd grabbed him. The thing is, they hadn't taken anything of value from him. He still had his wallet and his phone. The only thing they'd done was dab a cloth against Pete's bloody arm before hitting his head and presumably running away.

They'd taken his blood.

Pete doesn't want to think of this anymore. They were probably just part of some stupid cult, and that was their offering. Nothing more, nothing less.

But, he remembers his family, and how he'd decided to leave after a fight with his parents. He remembers how he'd stormed out, close to tears, out of that toxic environment and into his own life. He hadn't spoken to them in a year. They didn't want him back there.

He also remembers that his full name is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, and he almost laughs out loud.

But, now his head is swimming and he knows that he needs to clear it, so he stands up, stretches, and heads for the door.

The first thing he notices as he opens the door is the pile of Patrick's clothing on the floor of the porch. They're neatly and deliberately pushed to one corner of it, with his glasses placed delicately atop the pile. Then there's his underwear, just sitting in front of the doormat. He doesn't really do anything, just stares at them, dumbfounded. What the fuck is Patrick doing? Is he just running naked around the woods? Does he have a _tree fetish?_ Pete decides that they're probably just there from when he was doing laundry. Maybe they aren't the clothes that he was wearing before. It's dark, so that must be why he can't tell.

He pushes the thought away and sits down on the steps, staring blankly into the night. He rests his head in his hands. There's a bicycle that he hadn't noticed before leaning against the stairs. Crickets and frogs chirp from their hiding places, out of sight but still announcing their presence. A light breeze tousles his hair and he sighs softly, taking in the clear scent of the forest. He realizes then that he’s never had enough of an appreciation for nature. He wishes that he’d spent more time outside as a kid. He ponders more irrelevant questions for several minutes. An ant crawls over his socked foot and he kicks it off. He hears an owl hoot somewhere in the treetops before it flies away. He sees it against the moonlight, flying silently. Something must have scared it. Pete slaps at a mosquito on his leg.

Suddenly, a twig breaks and there is movement in his peripheral vision. He whips around and sees it. The wolf.

Their eyes meet and they simply stare at each other. The light breeze keeps up, making the wolf look even more alive. His damp fur moves delicately and his expression is nothing like anything Pete had ever seen on an animal before. It's too knowing to be just a wolf. He holds this gaze and that’s when he knows. He _knows_ that it’s Patrick, even if he’s not sure how.

“Say something.” Pete demands finally, his voice quiet. The wolf just shakes his head slowly and backs away. Their gaze is held for a moment longer before wolf-Patrick turns around and breaks into a run. Soon, Pete hears his pawsteps fade away into the night, and he lets out a sigh.

He wonders why he’s even believing in what he just saw. But, at this point, he’s willing to believe almost anything.

He goes back inside after a few more minutes. He kicks off his pants in the living room then trudges down the hallway into the bedroom that he’s staying in. He’s fucking exhausted, and he’s so confused. He crashes into bed, pulling the covers around himself. Getting into bed is one thing, falling asleep is another. His mind is racing with incoherent and scrambled thoughts

It takes him an hour, but he eventually drifts into a fitful sleep filled with strange dreams.

. . .

The next morning, Pete and Patrick are quiet over their coffee and pancakes, the only words exchanged being “morning” or “hey”. Their eyes are low and Patrick's fidgeting with his utensils. He's only picking at his food.

Patrick looks incredibly uncomfortable, so Pete decides to break the silence.

“I, uh, I remembered everything last night.” He says quietly, looking down at his mostly empty plate.

“You did?” Patrick asks, and Pete nods. “That’s good.” Pete nods again and bites his lip.

“I don’t want to go back there.” Pete’s not sure why he says it, but it earns a sharp inhale from Patrick.

“Why?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They don’t want me.”

“Oh. So... You'll stay with me?”

"Yeah. It's better here then back there." They both go silent again. Patrick finishes his coffee and sets down his mug. He wordlessly clears both of their plates and sits back down at the counter, his head in his hands. He looks tired and almost sad.

Eventually, Pete speaks again.

“You’re different as a wolf.”

**Patrick just nods.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete has figured it out. There's more drama in the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something changes.

(Patrick's POV)

 

Pete only mentions Patrick's wolf form that once.

A month passes and they never talk about it. Patrick comes and goes each night, sometimes staying in the house and some nights going out. He'll occasionally bike into town and get groceries. Pete will make the comment that Patrick needs a car. Patrick will laugh.

He takes Pete with him to buy clothes. He purchases enough so that he can get by, but still has to borrow Patrick's sometimes. Patrick is perfectly okay with that.

He gets to know Pete more, too. He learns that Pete writes poems, but he hasn't asked to read any. He's scared that he'll push him away and that Pete will leave him, and as much as he hates to admit it, he's terrified of that. Pete is the first real friend that Patrick has had in a long time. The two of them have grown close in only a month, closer than anyone Patrick's been friends with. He can't lose that.

They've become pretty close physically, as well. There's a lot less room between them than there probably should be.

Patrick's also taken quite a liking to going on walks with Pete. He likes the way Pete looks with the sun on his face and the wind in his hair. Pete’s arm is almost healed and his black eye is gone.

The wolves haven't come back, either.

Patrick is scared that they're planning something. He knows that he couldn't have won that easily. He's scared that the wolves, which he remembers were called Andy and Joe, will come back and hurt Pete. These are worries that haunt him when he's lying in bed. They creep behind him during the day and he figures if he doesn't look, they won't attack.

He hasn't told Pete about them. He brushed off any questions about the claw-marks on his cheek or the scratches on his arms. "I fell" had become his favorite excuse. They both knew it wasn't true. Now, the marks have faded and healed. They don't come up in conversation.

One afternoon, Patrick's reading a book on the couch when Pete's in the shower. The humid air sends a steamy fog up around the forest. Patrick's a little nervous. The fog dampens his senses and makes him feel like he's blind. He can't stand it. Today would be perfect for the wolves to make another attack.

He tosses his book on the coffee table, standing up. He can walk around the perimeter of the house with Pete still in the shower. Just to make sure. He knows Pete will probably laugh at him for worrying when he gets back inside, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

He slips on his shoes and goes outside, closing the door softly behind him. The air is thick and humid, and the fog coils around his legs and feet. He shivers, not from cold, but because his senses are dampened. He feels blind. He even finds himself wiping at his glasses out of habit.

Patrick walks down off of the porch. He can't smell any wolves, but he decides to make a walk around the house anyone. He cautiously creeps along, his back to the wall. Something is really irking him. He feels the thin hair on the back of his neck stand up and a hollow nervousness clutches at his stomach. The air is eerily silent and he feels something. He sighs again and starts moving faster. Pete's probably done in the shower now and he's only halfway around the house. Fuck it, Patrick thinks, speeding up. He breaks into a jog, even though he’s making noise. When he gets to the porch steps, he’s properly scared. The air is silent in a way that it definitely shouldn’t be. There isn’t a noise, no birds, no frogs, nothing. This is not how a forest is supposed to sound.

He puts his foot on the first step.

_Crack._

He freezes. That was a twig breaking. He didn’t step on a twig.

He moves his other foot.

A bark breaks the deadly silence as a wolf launches from the fog, bowling Patrick over. He recognizes him immediately. Joe. Patrick squirms underneath him and kicks out, earning a startled yelp of pain from him. Patrick staggers back as more wolves start to emerge from the thick fog.

Two. That’s a leaner wolf that he doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t look quite as sure of himself. He has a shaggy brown coat and is tall and thin.

Three. That’s Andy, and he looks strong and determined.

Four. Another wolf that he doesn’t recognize. This one is stocky and tall with a wild mane of fur. He has a wide muzzle that’s peeled into a snarl.

There is no way that Patrick can fight four wolves at once, but he’s going to try. He dodges the smaller wolf as he lunges, starting to shift. As Patrick drops to all fours and shakes out his fur, he tries to worm his way out of the clothes hanging loosely around his body. Andy sees this as an opportunity and shoves his shirt down over his eyes. He feels another wolf barrel into him from the side and he falls over, his paws getting caught on the fabric. He hears the shirt tear and winces. He really liked this one.

He struggles under this wolf’s grip and peeks his head out of one of the shirt’s short sleeves. The wolf that has him pinned is the biggest one. Tendrils of drool drip from his bared teeth and Patrick flinches as they drip onto his cheek. Joe approaches him and slams a paw down on his muzzle. He whimpers in pain and struggles further.

 _You could have left._ He sneers.

 _Never._ Patrick hisses back.

 _Guess we’ll have to kill you then, huh?_ The big wolf holding him down says, his voice smug. Patrick closes his eyes and stops fighting. They’ll probably kill Pete, too, all because Patrick was weak and couldn’t fight. Andy and the other wolf are out of his sight. Maybe they’re on their way to kill Pete already. Patrick lets himself go limp underneath the wolves.

A yell sounds from the porch and Patrick struggles to get a look. He hears Pete come thundering down the steps and grab the big wolf by his ruff, throwing him off of Patrick. His fist collides with Joe’s muzzle, sending him stumbling off balance. Patrick takes the tiny bit of time he has to scramble out of what used to be his shirt. He’s almost free of his pants as well before he’s pushed back to the ground. Andy’s snarling in his face, teeth bared. Patrick is prepared this time. He kicks out at Andy’s stomach and rolls out from under him.

Joe and the tall, thin wolf are creeping towards Pete. Patrick cries out and rushes towards him. He grips onto Joe’s shoulders and throws him to the ground, only to be headbutted in the ribs by the large, stocky wolf.

 _Ray! I didn’t need your help!_ Joe hisses.

 _We’re all here to get him. Distract the other._ The big wolf called Ray has Patrick pinned. Pete makes a move from his spot, reaching out a hand.

 _Pete! Don’t move._ Patrick whimpers frantically. Joe’s on his paws again and moves his face closer to Patrick’s.

 _Awww. You’re not even gonna let him make a try for it?_ He sneers.

“Leave him alone!” Pete shouts. The wolves freeze and look to Pete. Andy gestures at the thin wolf.

 _Brendon._ He says cooly. _Restrain him._

Brendon leaps into action, pinning Pete to the ground. Pete lets out a grunt and struggles underneath him.

Patrick kicks at Ray’s groin, earning a sharp wail of pain. He crumples to the ground and Patrick huffs. He dodges as Andy leaps at him, maneuvering so that he crashes into Joe instead.

 _I can’t hold him!_ Brendon squeaks as Pete kicks underneath him. Patrick prepares to hurl himself at Brendon, but claws sink into his hips, pulling him back and throwing him to the ground again. He hisses in pain. He’s gonna have a lot of bruises if he survives this.

Andy’s teeth are inches from his throat and Ray’s claws are digging into his muzzle when he hears Pete wail.

This isn’t a little whimper of pain, it’s a proper scream of agony, shrill and panicked. Andy is startled enough that Patrick can scramble out from under him and get to his paws. All four wolves stare at Pete and Brendon. Brendon’s teeth are latched onto Pete’s shoulder. He’s trembling as blood starts to seep into the soft fur around his mouth. Ray grunts in anger and growls at Brendon.

You fucking idiot. He’s a human. You just turned him. Ray’s words echo through Patrick’s mind as Brendon detaches himself from Pete, his head lowered in shame.

 _I couldn’t hold him down._ He mutters.

 _Get out of here._ Patrick hisses. _I’m pretty sure that’s against most pack laws. You’re not supposed to turn people._

Ray whips around and looks ready to fight, but Andy stops him.

 _No. He’s right._ He says quietly.

 _What? But Gabe’s only gonna punish us more if we go back without killing him!_ Ray snarls.

 _We’re not killing anyone today. We’ve done too much damage already._ Joe adds in. Their speaking seems rushed and insincere. Ray and Brendon both look equally confused. Patrick blinks. That’s an awfully quick change of mindset.

 _Get the fuck out._ Patrick growls. Pete’s starting to cough and spasm, signalling a change. When none of the wolves move, Patrick raises his voice until it’s screaming through their heads. _Did you not hear me? GET THE FUCK OUT!_

Ray huffs and follows Andy and Joe as they trot away.

 _I’m really sorry._ Brendon mumbles as he follows them, head hung low. Patrick just snaps his jaws at him and rushes to Pete. Tears are streaming from his eyes and he’s clawing at the air.

 _I’m here, oh god, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen._ Patrick sits down next to him.

“It hurts so much. My blood... it feels like it’s on fire.” Pete chokes out.

 _You’re shifting._ Patrick sighs and looks down.

“I’m scared!” Pete whimpers as his back makes a sickly cracking noise.

 _I know._ Patrick closes his eyes as Pete lets out another wail. He can tell by the cracking noises in the air that Pete’s body has started to re-arrange itself.

This is all his fault.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

(Pete’s POV)

Pete is on fire.

His blood is boiling and hot pain sears through his joints, sending him into violent spasms. He’s pretty sure his bones are breaking. His skin itches in the worst way and it pricks with sharp, tiny needles. He lets out a noise that can’t be human. His face is twisting and elongating, slowly, painfully. His breathing is heavy and he chokes on nothing. He can feel the fit of his clothes changing as his body twists, the seams rip with loud noises that scream through his head. His vision is blurred and his head is spinning. He’s never experienced anything so painful in his life.

Sharp sparks of pain run from his shoulders to what used to be his fingertips. He throws his head back and screams again. The noise he makes frightens both him and Patrick, who jumps back with a yelp. It’s a strangled cry of wolf and human vocal chords crashing together.

Pete is coming apart at the seams. He feels his jaws part in a huffed breath. The convulsing is worse now, his ribcage and spine twisting to form a new body shape, accommodating for a tail. He coughs violently as the spasms start to subside. The pain in his body changes to pins and needles, and his ragged breathing slows to shaky, whistling breaths through his nose.

He feels so different.

 _Pete?_ Patrick’s voice is in his mind again. He tries to talk, but a shrill whine is the only sound that comes out of his throat. Pete blinks and swallows, panting. He can sense everything. Everything has a new smell. His eyesight is sharp and clear, and he can hear the slightest rustle of every leaf. He can smell the musty pang of some small animal and another scent that's more calming, like mint and coffee. He assumes it's Patrick. It’s the most overwhelming thing he’s ever felt. He slowly and shakily tries to move off the ground. Patrick rushes to steady him as he stumbles. He looks down at his paws and the world spins. Paws. He has paws.

His stomach promptly lurches and he throws up on the ground.

 _Woah there. Sit down._ Patrick urges him. Pete can’t fold his hind legs properly and ends up crumpling to the ground. Patrick nudges him and pushes him away from the vomit. _Try and thought-speak. Just think something and imagine it sending out to me._

Pete nods shakily and focuses on forming a thought to send to Patrick. “It hurts so much. I feel awful,” he tries to say.

 _H-h-h-hurts..._ Is all he can send out. Patrick sighs and lies down next to him. He's slightly comforted by his closeness.

 _I know it hurts._ Patrick says softly, pressing closer. Pete concentrates harder on sending a thought to him.

 _What... look like?_ He stammers, his thoughts slurred and shaky.

 _What do you look like?_ Patrick asks to clarify, and Pete nods. _Your fur is blackish brown, the color of your hair, basically. You’ve got a white blaze on your chest. Your eyes are the same, brown._

Pete’s head hurts, but he nods again.

 _I... I think you’re beautiful._ That surprises Pete.

 _I’m...?_ He sends back. Patrick nods and rests his head on his paws. Pete feels dizzy and sick, so he just slumps against Patrick. He’s warm, Pete notes, and his fur is soft. Pete sighs and closes his eyes. The spinning in his head is starting to subside. The last of his consciousness  slips away and he sighs, the ringing in his ears cutting out into silence.

 

Pete is human again when he opens his eyes.

He's back inside Patrick's house, in the same bed, the same arm bandaged. He's hit with a wave of déjà vu before he shakes himself off and realizes that Patrick is in the room.

He also realizes that he's naked under the covers and pulls them up to his chest, suddenly very self-conscious.

"You're awake." Patrick says from where he's sitting with a book. He closes it, folding the page down to mark it.

"Yeah." Pete mumbles. He reaches up to rub at his forehead. His head is pounding and his joints ache in the worst way possible. This sucks. "Kinda wish that I wasn't." His arm is throbbing with a dull pain and a stinging sensation that he's never felt before.

"It'll go away in a month or two." Patrick says.

"What will?" Pete raises his eyebrows.

"The pain. When you shift forms, it won't hurt anymore." Pete remembers changing. He's hit with the shocking reality that _his entire life_ has just been changed because a goddamn wolf bit him. He won't ever be the same again. "You'll also be able to control it, but for now, you need to tell me if you feel weird. That means that you're shifting." _Or aroused._ Pete thinks.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"You know how if you're going to throw up, you can just tell?"

"Yeah, but—"

"You'll feel it in your blood. Your entire body starts tingling and you feel like you need to move. You'll know it." Patrick explains. Pete nods.

"How am I gonna get through this?" He whispers. His voice his higher than normal, and he realizes how afraid he is.

"I'm gonna help you through it. It's okay."

"How?"

"I'll help you control it. There's a way to trigger a shift and stop it. You'll learn." Patrick stands up and crosses the room. He sits down on the edge of the bed.

"I feel lost." Pete admits. He reaches for Patrick's hand. Right now, Patrick is his anchor. He'll keep him in touch with reality. Patrick doesn't seem to hesitate and intertwines their fingers.

"I'll help you learn your way around this, okay?" He says softly. Pete nods. "You should try and get some more sleep." Patrick tells him.

"Yeah." Pete sighs, lying down again.

"I'll leave you alone now." Patrick stands up to leave, but Pete doesn't let go of his hand.

"Wait." He whispers.

"Hm?"

"Can you lie with me until I fall asleep?" He asks sheepishly.

"You're naked." Patrick raises an eyebrow.

"You don't have to get under the covers." Pete says quickly. "I just, I, uh..."

"It's okay." Patrick laughs and stands up. The bed makes a creaking noise as he lies down next to him.

Pete settles down and slightly, almost not enough to notice, presses into Patrick’s side.  He can feel the warmth from Patrick's side touching his back. It’s strangely comforting.

“Sleep well.” Patrick sighs.

Pete nods and closes his eyes. He ends up falling asleep to the sound of Patrick’s breathing.

When he wakes up the first time, Patrick’s asleep, too, and his arm is draped over Pete, his breath hot on the back of his neck. Pete drifts off again immediately after thinking, _haha, we're spooning._

When he wakes up the second time, Patrick’s gone, and the covers are twisted around him. He opens his eyes and sees that his body’s different, that aching feeling twists through his stomach. He’s overheating because of the fur. He thrashes a little to kick off the covers again and closes his eyes, sticking his muzzle into the pillowcase.

And when he wakes up the third time, the sheets smell of wolf (he’s not sure how he knows that, but he recognizes it as his own scent) and the pillow has been tossed to the floor. He knows that he’s shifted several times. He’s human, though, and a cold sweat has soaked his hair. He sits up and a headache rushes through him. The sharp pain in his arm, the ache... he chuckles bitterly. This is all too familiar.

He’s not sure how he’s going to make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it took so long for me to update! Hopefully chapter 8 will be out sooner.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey, it's been a while! i wrote this about a year ago and i doubt there will be much more of an update after this. i'm really sorry about that, but i have more stuff coming soon!

Chapter 8

(Patrick's POV)

 

Patrick wakes up the following night to someone knocking on his door. He groans and rolls over. He’s in no mood for this, not after such an exhausting day. He’s never experienced being with a newly turned wolf other than himself, and suddenly he’s got a lot of sympathy for his guardian. He must have been ten times worse than Pete, as he’d been so young. Pete had been shifting back and forth all day, complaining about his shoulder and how hungry he was. Patrick had run to help him.

So, right now, Patrick’s fucking exhausted. He looks at the clock. 2:48 am. But, the door opens and he hears a voice.

"Patrick?"

He rolls over and presses his head into the pillow.

"Trick? Can I sleep with you...?" Patrick finally registers that it's Pete talking and sits up. He rubs his eyes and blinks at Pete standing in the doorway.

"Pete?" He mumbles. "Are you okay?" His voice is a little slurred from sleep. Pete shakes his head slowly. "C'mere." Patrick scoots over and pats the bed next to him. Pete pads over and slides into bed. It creaks under his weight. Patrick can hear that he’s breathing heavily.

"Sorry... I just... Bad dream." Pete mutters softly. Patrick nods slowly and lies down against the pillow. Pete hesitates before moving closer.

"You want to talk about it?" Patrick asks. Pete shakes his head quickly.

"It was... I don’t know. Bad,” He sighs, and his voice is shaking. “Can I... Can I hold you?" He asks. Patrick's a little taken aback, but nods and moves into his arms. Pete scoots closer and settles in with his head pressed to the back of Patrick's neck. He’s a little concerned. Pete is practically clinging to him. He seems really shaken. But, they seem to fit together in a way that Patrick has never experienced before. Pete’s skin is warm against his own. Their breathing syncs up and soon Pete’s taking soft, calm breaths. 

"Are you okay?" Patrick asks again, his voice soft. His fingers trace lightly down Pete's arm and he sighs against his neck. Pete nods this time.

"I'm okay. Do you think you could sing for me?" Patrick can practically feel Pete blushing as he asks. "If it's too much to ask, I can-"

"It's fine. Of course I can sing for you." Patrick chuckles softly. "Any requests?"

"Something important to you." Pete murmurs, and Patrick knows exactly what he'll sing.

"My guardian used to sing this to me." He told Pete. "It's in Lycan, so you won't understand it, but it's a lullabye, I guess." He explains, and Pete nods. Patrick starts to sing, his voice soft and low. The song is a quiet, calm tune with complicated words in a language that even he doesn’t have a good understanding of. Almost no wolves speak it anymore, but this song is older than their current species.

“Wait, so she wasn’t your sister?” Pete asks.

“No, but she acted like one.” Patrick replies. “Now shut up and let me sing.”

Patrick runs his fingers up and down Pete’s arm as he sings. His voice dips and wavers with the changes of the notes and he even finds himself getting sleepy.

Once he's done with the song, Pete's hardly awake. His eyes are half-lidded and a little smile turns up the corners of his lips. He cuddles closer to Patrick and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Tricky.” Pete murmurs. Patrick turns red and suddenly has a great appreciation for the lack of lighting in the room.

“Night, Pete.” Patrick says softly. He presses his face into the crook of Pete’s neck and closes his eyes.

The two of them fall asleep enveloped in each other, their legs tangled and somehow, someway, their hands find a way to fit together.

 

Patrick wakes up to find Pete’s arms wrapped around his waist. He smiles and presses back up against him. He’s warm and safe with Pete’s breath rustling the hair on the back of his neck, and then he feels Pete move. His lips brush up against his ear.

“You awake?” He whispers, and his voice is lower in the morning. Patrick wonders why he hasn’t noticed that before.

“Yeah.” He says, still not opening his eyes. Pete doesn’t reply, just presses his nose against the crook of Patrick’s neck and exhales. Patrick giggles and sighs. “That tickles.”

“Sorry.” Pete mumbles sleepily. “Y’know what’s nice?”

“What?” Patrick asks.

“Breakfast.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Food. I’m hungry.”

“Thanks. That gives me a lot to work with.” Patrick rolls his eyes. “But I’ll make us breakfast sandwiches or something.” He wiggles out of Pete’s arms and slips out of the bed, socked feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor.

“Sandwiches are good. I’m gonna keep sleeping. Can you wake me up when food is ready?” Pete asks, nestling back into the blankets.

“Yeah. Sure.” Patrick smiles down at him and stretches before heading toward the kitchen.

“Thanks, babe.” Pete mumbles.

Patrick freezes in the doorway.  _ What?  _ He feels himself turning red. They’re not- they’re not anything, right? It’s not that he doesn’t like Pete, because it would be stupid to say that he wasn’t interested in him, and it would also be stupid to say that he’s not interested in Pete  _ a lot _ , but... all Pete did was come into his room because of a nightmare. Nothing else. Cuddling was platonic. Entirely platonic. The pet name probably slipped out of Pete’s mouth.

He needs time to think. He goes into the kitchen and puts two english muffins in the toaster, each cut in half. He cracks two eggs in a pan and stares at the wall.

He really does like Pete. More than he thought. He’s realizing now how nice it felt to be pressed up against him. Warm and safe and Pete’s sort of perfect and... Fuck, he’s got it bad.

He contemplates telling him for a moment, but quickly pushes the thought away. That would make Pete leave him. He could disappear, back into the city, and leave him.

_ But he could feel the same way. He was the one who asked to hold you.  _ His subconscious tells him, but he ignores it.

He’s putting the sandwiches on plates when he hears the whine. He sighs and sets them down, looking towards his bedroom.

Wolf Pete stumbles into the kitchen and flattens his ears, whining again. His eyes are stretched wide. Patrick approaches with one of the sandwiches and sets it down in front of him. “Eat.” He commands.

Pete lowers his muzzle and eats the sandwich quickly. Patrick starts on his own, occasionally looking down at Pete.

“Can you try and thought-speak again?” Patrick asked him. “It should be a lot easier now that you’re rested.”

_ I can try. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. _ Pete says. Patrick raises his eyebrows and stares at him.  _ Wait, did I just do it?  _ He asks.

“Yeah. You did.” Patrick’s a little surprised. “That was fast.”

Pete shrugs, standing up. He sighs and flicks his ears.  _ This is so weird.  _ Patrick nods and shrugs.

“You’ll get used to it. I’ve got an idea.” Patrick says. He stretches and lets himself to shift, wiggling out of his clothes.

_ An idea?  _ Pete tilts his head to the side.

_ Yeah. I think I’ll show you around today.  _ Patrick sends to him.

_ Are you sure I won’t shift?  _ Pete looks wary.

_ If you’re stable enough to thought-speak so quickly, then you’ll be stable until night.  _ Patrick tells him. Pete sort of shrugs and it’s kind of cute.

_ Okay. Whatever you say, wolfboy.  _ Pete pads to the door and noses it open. It creaks and Patrick flinches a little at the shrill noise.

Once they’re outside, Patrick trots over to a dead tree.  _ Okay, we’re gonna learn to fight. _

_ I thought we were going on a tour of the forest? _

_ Hit me. _

_ Ooo, kinky.  _ Pete smirks and raises his paw, gently batting the side of Patrick’s face. He raises an eyebrow.

_ Dude, I know you can fight better than that. _

_ Okay, you hit me then!  _ Pete challenges. Patrick nods and cuffs Pete’s ear. While he’s stunned, he bats at his front legs and pushes him to the ground, pressing a paw into the side of his face and growling.

_ Don’t test me.  _ He says, but his voice is teasing. He lets Pete off the ground and steps back.

_ How’d you learn to do that?  _ Pete pants, out of breath. Patrick smirks.

_ Same way you will.  _ He says, and then pounces again. Pete swears under his breath and tries to fight back. As he’s knocked back, he realises that this is going to be a very, very long night.

. . .

 

It’s been hours and they’re both worn out. They’re a little bruised but they’re laughing softly, bumping against each other while they walk.

_ That was exhausting.  _ Pete complains.

_ Yeah, I know.  _ Patrick laughs and slows down the pace a little. They walk in a comfortable silence for a while, their shoulders bumping every now and then.

_ Where are we going now?  _ Pete asks, tilting his head. Patrick leaps up onto a rock and looks down at him.

_ Wanna go to the lake? _

_ The lake? _

_ Yeah, the one that you almost walked into when you were still trying to get home. _

_ Oh. Sure. I’m gonna have to shift soon.  _ He sounds almost nervous.

_ I know. It’s okay.  _ Patrick shakes himself a little. The mood feels heavier.

_ Hey...  _ Pete says softly.  _ I’ll race you!  _ He speeds off in the direction of the lake. Patrick leaps down from the rock and follows him, giggling.

_ You don’t even really know where you’re going!  _ He calls.

_ I’m winning! _ Pete shouts back.

Pete wins their race and splashes into the shallow water, looking back for Patrick.

Patrick joins him and starts swimming out. He ducks under water again and closes his eyes.

This is the closest he’ll ever get to flying.

He exhales under the water and then bobs to the surface, gasping softly. He treads water and looks over at Pete.

_ I’m gonna shift.  _ He warns, before throwing his head back and starting to transform. Patrick quickly shifts as well and swims over, cradling the other as his body changes. When Pete opens his eyes, they’re locked with Patrick’s.

Pete splashes water into Patrick’s face and he drops him into the water with a yelp. “You little shit!” Pete laughs.

Pete resurfaces a moment later and pushes his hair back.

Patrick blushes when he sees the water droplets dripping down his toned skin.. Pete giggles and splashes more water at him, but this time Patrick is ready. He splashes away to where the water’s a little deeper. “You can’t get me out here!”

“Watch me, asshole!” Pete swims after him, and Patrick runs at him.

This time, Pete lets them collide, pressing their bare chests together and wrapping his arms around Patrick. Patrick nuzzles his nose against the crook of Pete’s neck. This is the closest he’s ever really been to someone. This is something he’s never had. Is it something?

There’s no signs of Pete letting go and Patrick’s sure he won’t either. Pete is warm and he can practically hear his heart racing. Every color is flooding through Patrick’s veins until he is a whole rainbow. He wants to sing. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted this.

And then Pete’s pulling away, but not completely letting go. His arms are still hooked around Patrick’s waist. Patrick moves his around Pete’s neck. This is right. This is happening.

Their eyes are locked now.

Pete’s gaze flickers from Patrick’s soft eyes to his mouth and then back up again.

_ Yes.  _ Patrick thinks.  _ Yes, yes, yes. _

And then they’re careening off the edge of safety into something more as Pete presses his lips to Patrick’s.

They are frozen for a moment.

Then they’re kissing, actually kissing. Patrick was wrong.  _ This  _ is the closest he’ll ever get to flying. It’s gentle at first, but soon they’re more desperate, gasping against each other. Patrick makes Pete shudder when he moans into his mouth.

They pull away some time later (Patrick lost track when Pete started to rub his back) and then they just stare at each other, swollen lips and messed up hair.

Patrick tries to say “I love you” but it comes out as “More.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of Werewolf!Patrick headcanons, so hopefully I won't lose inspiration for this story! Critique is welcome. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Thanks to ShadowRealm for writing the summary!


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